


A Night In Baghdad

by Yodigittyyoyo



Category: Generation Kill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:10:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yodigittyyoyo/pseuds/Yodigittyyoyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teeny ficlet about the Iceman's first combat jack in Baghdad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night In Baghdad

Colbert's POV

It had been 42 days since we stepped off and began this clusterfuck of an invasion. 42 motherfucking days of trying to unfuck the shitstorms that Encino Man and Captain America continuously jizzed all over our battalion like hormonal thirteen year olds with their hands on their first fucking war-hustler. Being unable to prevent the inevitable stupidity of command due to military politics was like being unable to give the whiskey tango ho who just blew you a much-needed breath mint. Un-fucking-tolerable.

Baghdad was a ruined, rioting, and bombed out chunk of Mesopotamia. Granted, the piece of shit city that sat on top of the cradle of civilization was currently a fucking hornet's nest of shitholes and insurgents dressed up like florists, but I lamented the destruction of the sites of ancient history that stood alongside blown-out fedaieen strongholds.

42 days… and with bombs continually exploding on the horizon I finally found time for my first combat jack.

I was picturing "JLo's cum-dripping twat", as Cpl. Person so colorfully put it, and was about to finish my jack when Rolling Stone walked into the dark, crumbling courtyard holding a roll of toilet paper. "Sgt. Colbert?" he said.

Fuck! "Reporter", I gritted out through clenched teeth, "if you speak again in the next thirty seconds I'll dress you up like a fucking Sheppard and sic Trombly on you."

He shut up and I finished my jack quickly, despite the intrusion. They call me the Iceman for my ability to calmly focus on the most pertinent situation, and for good reason. Once that particular situation had been addressed, I re-buttoned my camis and stood to face Rolling Stone.

"What do you need, Reporter?" I asked while quickly slinging my M16 over my shoulder.

Rolling Stone looked a bit skittish. "Nothing, Sergeant. I was trying to find a place to shit." I smirked at him and waved my arm, indicating the ruined courtyard. "By all means, Reporter. This place is as good as any to soil with the leavings of the conquering heroes. Please excuse the lack of restroom attendants." I gave the stunned man a tiny smirk to let him know my comments were all in fun, if only just mine, and walked past to leave him to the privacy he had inadvertently denied me.

As I neared the Hum-vee I heard that inbred fuck Person singing "I don't want anybody else! When I think about you I touch myself!"

Fuckwad.


End file.
